Seven
by pretty-butterfly
Summary: Seven Weasley siblings. Seven chapters. Hermione loves all of them in different ways. Nonchronological AU.
1. Charlie

_Silently watching the rain clouds  
Move by far too fast  
You said it was a night where  
Anything could happen  
But nothing was gonna last_

Charlie got up from his rather comfortable position on the sofa with a sigh. He had been quite looking forward to having an evening in with the Wizard Wireless in the corner and a good book. Disgruntled, he crossed his living room to the front door.

He was more than a little surprised to find a dripping wet Hermione Granger in the hallway outside his flat. His annoyance at the interruption dissipated as he took in her sodden form. The woman was dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather. She had her arms folded across her chest as she shivered silently but visibly. Charlie looked her up and down, concern evident on his face.

"You're wet," he said softly.

Instantly he regretted it. He cringed inwardly, waiting for her to laugh at him for stating the blindingly obvious, or to express irritation at his stupidity. To his surprise and relief, she didn't.

"Yes," she replied softly, "It's raining."

Coming to his senses at last, Charlie stepped aside to let Hermione into his flat. He told her to wait in the living room while he fetched some dry clothes. Guessing that Hermione wouldn't want to wear dragon hide trousers, Charlie selected a slightly battered pair of Muggle jeans and an old Weird Sisters T-shirt. When he returned to the living room there was no sign of his unexpected guest.

"Hermione?" he called curiously.

"I'm in here."

He followed her voice into the kitchen.

"I didn't want to drip on your carpet," she said by way of explanation.

Charlie smiled at her and held out the pile of clothes for her. As she reached for them, he suddenly realised that her white shirt had gone entirely transparent in the rain. _Oh crap,_ _I can see Hermione Granger's bra,_ he thought, trying desperately not to look at her chest. He was also hoping that he hadn't gone red from embarrassment. Hermione took the clothes, seemingly unaware of Charlie's inner turmoil. He was highly relieved when she just thanked him and headed for the door.

"You know where the bathroom is," he said with a smile.

"Thanks," she said, turning to smile back at him as she left the room.

_Hmmm, _thought Charlie, _hope my bedroom's not too messy, _as he realised she'd have to walk through it to get to the bathroom.

Hermione hummed to herself as she stood in Charlie's bathroom, rubbing her hair with a towel. She dressed herself in his jeans and T-shirt. The jeans were quite a good fit, surprisingly. She had thought they probably wouldn't fit her and had been speculating about shrinking or enlarging them, but thankfully it hadn't been necessary. It was quite funny looking at herself in Charlie's clothes. She would never normally wear a Weird Sisters T-shirt.

She combed her hair and pulled it back into a damp plait. There was no knowing what it would try to do if left to it's own devices after being rained on. Satisfied, she continued humming as she gathered up her wet clothes and the now wet towel. She unlocked the bathroom door, wondering what she should do with them. To her surprise, Hermione spotted a Muggle airer in the corner of Charlie's bedroom.

"Charlie? I'm hanging my things on the airer, ok?"

There was no response. She shrugged and began hanging her wet things on it anyway, before heading back to the living room.

While Hermione was in the bathroom, Charlie decided she could probably do with a cup of hot tea to warm her up. He wasn't sure if she'd want sugar or not, so he carried the sugar bowl and a teaspoon into the living room, floating the mugs in front of him and setting the lot down on the table. Thankfully he had finished doing this before his sister appeared near the door with a loud crack, scaring the living daylights out of her poor brother.

"Bloody hell! What have I told you about doing that, Gin? Can't you apparate into the hallway and knock like a normal person? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

She simply grinned and flopped down into the nearest armchair.

"Hey, big brother! What you up to?" she said cheekily.

"Well," Charlie sighed, "I was_ trying_ to read a book, but apparently the universe has other plans for me this evening."

There came a noise from Charlie's bathroom. From the expression on Ginny's face it was clear that she had jumped to the logical, yet annoying, conclusion that it had come from the bedroom. She then noticed the two mugs of tea on the table and looked at her brother with wicked glee.

"Didn't realise you had _company_, Charlie. I hope I'm not intruding."

Charlie did not like the evil look that had come across his little sister's face. _Oh crap_, he thought.

"No, Gin. It's not what you think, she just ..."

At that moment a distinctly female voice cut him off.

"Charlie? I'm hanging my things on the airer, ok?"

"This just gets better and better. What things is she putting on the airer, Charlie?" Ginny asked in her most over-the-top innocent voice.

Hermione walked into the room before Charlie could answer. Ginny looked a little confused. It was Hermione. Her hair was wet. She was _definitely_ wearing Charlie's clothes. Hermione didn't seem to notice anything odd.

"Oh, hi Gin! How are you?"

Hermione finally noticed the oddness of Ginny when the younger girl squealed in response.

"You! And you! And ... I can't believe it! Eww, Hermione! He's my brother!"

"What?" Hermione asked, obviously lost.

"No, Ginny, I told you, it's not what you think. Hermione got caught in the rain and I lent her some dry clothes. That's it."

Hermione caught on and started laughing. Ginny remained unconvinced.

"What? It's not raining."

"How would you know?" Charlie exclaimed in frustration, "You apparated, remember."

"And why d'you think my hair's wet?" Hermione added. She had stopped laughing.

"Post-coital shower?"

"Ginny!" Hermione and Charlie yelled in unison.

"I don't believe you. Why didn't you just charm your clothes dry?"

Hermione was starting to feel like Ginny was auditioning for the Spanish Inquisition. She blushed.

"Idon'tknowhow," she mumbled.

"What?"

This time it was Charlie and Ginny's turn to speak in unison. Hermione started gabbling at high speed, still looking rather embarrassed.

"Well, I learnt at school, obviously, but I couldn't do it outside school, and with my parents I did laundry Muggle-style, and then after everything, and I like the smell of my clothes better when it's done without magic anyway, it reminds me of how mum did it and I guess I forgot how to do it after a while and I didn't bother re-learning it because I prefer it Muggle-style."

"Right," Ginny said, trying not to laugh, "but that doesn't explain why you didn't do it for her, Charlie."

"I, um, I ... Well, I shrink things when I try to charm them dry so I dry my laundry Muggle-style too. I can wash stuff with magic though."

Hermione and Ginny both laughed as he sounded so proud of his ability to wash his own clothes.

"So, you both do your laundry without magic. That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard. I think I'll leave you to do your _laundry_ in peace."

Ginny winked exaggeratedly before disappearing with a loud crack, leaving Charlie and Hermione wondering what had just happened and how Ginny could make laundry sound dirty. Charlie broke the awkward silence by offering Hermione her mug of tea. He also handed her a blanket which she put across her lap. They settled down on the sofa with the Wireless on.

"So, what are you reading," Hermione asked curiously.


	2. Bill

_Homesick._

_Because I no longer know where home is._

"Egypt."

She replied without pausing for thought. When given the choice between Egypt and Norway, Egypt won hands down. Yes, Norway probably would be quite an interesting place to visit, but it didn't have the pyramids or the heat. Or Bill Weasley.

Hermione knew some people would think it was daft to choose her place of work for the next three months because of a man she barely knew, but Molly would appreciate it. And it would be nice to see a familiar face occasionally. While she loved the travelling that went with her job at the Ministry, she did feel lonely in the exotic (and not-so-exotic) locations she called home for a few months at a time. When in England, she lived at the Burrow. The room that had once been Percy's was now permanently hers. The place she had called home until she was seventeen no longer existed. Despite Molly's efforts, Hermione felt rootless.

When Hermione got in that night she sat down for dinner as usual, chatting happily with Fred and Ginny, having learnt years ago that the best way to 'help' Molly was to wash up rather than offer assistance with cooking and serving food. It pleased Mrs. Weasley greatly that she had at least one of her offspring round for dinner every night. She knew that not many mothers had that luxury once their children had left home. It saddened her to think that the war might be partially responsible for her good fortune, but she was thankful all the same.

After dinner, Hermione took Molly to one side and told her quietly that she had accepted a post in Egypt for three months and would be leaving in a week. A mixture of sadness and hope passed across the older woman's face as she took in the news.

"Could you give me Bill's address? It'll be nice to have someone I know around to show me the ropes."

"Of course, dear! It's just, well, it might be better if you turn up on his doorstep and surprise him. I don't know what to do with him lately. He hardly writes, and I haven't seen him since Christmas."

Hermione patted Molly on the arm reassuringly, knowing from the way her voice was cracking that she was close to tears.

"I know. I'll write to you every week, maybe more, so you won't have to worry about me. And I'll give you updates on how Bill's doing too. He'll be ok. He just needs time."

Hermione stood in the hot, dusty street, clutching a crumpled piece of paper. She re-read it for the fourth time, looked up at the door in front of her and stepped forward with a determined look on her face. She knocked on the door firmly and then stood back. She hoped desperately that he was home. People were starting to give her funny looks. She was fairly sure she was dressed appropriately. Having been told to keep her arms and hair covered as much as possible, she had gone shopping and bought herself several loose, light pairs of trousers and long-sleeved shirts. Today she was wearing brown linen trousers, charmed not to crease, and a white shirt. She had forced her hair into a neat bun which she had wrapped scarf round, partly to keep her hair under control, and partly so she could wear it as a more traditional headscarf when necessary.

"Damn it, Bill. Open the door."

_Great, s_he thought, _now I'm talking to myself._ She knocked on the door again. It opened to reveal a rather angry man with long red hair ad silver scars crisscrossing his face.

"Hello, Bill. Long time, no see."

A look of surprise flickered across his face, and then his expression softened. He stepped aside to let her in. Hermione walked past him into his living room. Thankfully his flat was a lot nicer on the inside than on the outside. She assumed this was designed to deter burglars, which was preferable to being dragged before the courts to explain why you had jinxed intruders. The flat was spacious, well-lit and neat. And there was nothing to show that Fleur had ever lived there. Hermione decided that Bill must have a drawer full of her stuff in his bedroom.

"Why did you come?" he asked abruptly.

"I'm working here for three months. Your mother gave me your address. I thought it would be nice to have a local show me around."

"I see."

Hermione sighed. Apparently this was not going to be as easy as she'd hoped. Her plan had been to have fun sightseeing with Bill, before ordering him to write to his mother more often. It would seem that fun was out of the question.

"I take it you don't mind being stared at."

"What?"

She looked confused. She had been so sure her outfit was appropriate. She never wore anything that could be considered remotely indecent in England, and she had covered everything except her face and hands. Bill laughed sadly, and indicated his face. As he did so she noticed that he was no longer wearing his wedding ring.

"Oh, Bill."

"I don't need your pity, Hermione. And I certainly don't want it."

She sighed in exasperation.

"That's good, because I'm not offering it. You can cast a glamour over yourself so that the Muggles can't see the scars, or you can just stare right back at anyone daft enough to stare at you."

He looked at her in mild surprise. She suppressed a smile.

"And you can go see your mother more often as well. Or at least write to her. She's worried sick about you."

His shock turned to sadness once again. He looked down at his hands as he spoke, his voice catching in his throat.

"It's hard without her."

"I know," Hermione said softly, "but she wouldn't have wanted this."

Bill looked up at her, confused and curious.

"It's like she was never here. And you're so bitter. And we never see you. It's not good for you Bill. I'm sure you thought it would be easier to get rid of the things that remind you of her, but I bet there was some stuff you couldn't bear to part with stashed in a drawer somewhere. Stop hiding her things. Put a picture of her in here. Come home more. And be proud of your face."

Hermione sat back and waited for the tirade that had to follow her presumptuous outburst. She had meant to wait at least a few days before having this conversation. Maybe until the end of her visit. But somehow it had happened already. When she realised he wasn't going to say anything, she looked over to see Bill sat with his head in his hands.

She walked over and sat on the floor at his feet. She moved his hands and lifted his chin. Hermione slowly traced each of Bill's scars with her fingertips. At first he flinched under her touch. She persisted and he gradually relaxed. No one had touched him since his wife had died. He sighed softly as her small hands travelled the roadmap on his face and he closed his eyes. When he finally opened them, she smiled sadly, stood up and left.


End file.
